


The Ghosts of Childhood

by Nymphadora23



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - One and a Half Stans (Gravity Falls), But only at first because cmon, Canon Divergent - A Tale of Two Stans, Fix-It of Sorts, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Ford Pines is a Good Brother, Ford Pines is a Jerk, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Ford Pines, Protective Stan Pines, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stan Pines is a Good Brother, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphadora23/pseuds/Nymphadora23
Summary: After a fight with his brother, Stan heads out and is consequentially de-aged back into a child. Now Ford is going to have to confront the emotional baggage he's been avoiding, all while trying to manage three children and a business. What could go wrong?A.K.A.: a shameless fic for an AU no one has thought about in five years.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 49
Kudos: 183





	1. Something Lost and Something Gained

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the One And A Half Stans AU from [disappearedsock](https://disappeareddraws.tumblr.com/post/124975673137) and [thesnadger](https://thesnadger.tumblr.com/post/124888371105/disappeareddraws-ngl-i-kinda-wanna-see-some) over on Tumblr. I stumbled across it and the idea was too cute to leave alone.
> 
> This is my first Gravity Falls fic so, if characters are ooc, that's why.

The days since the Author had come out of the portal were almost suffocatingly tense. Don’t get him wrong - Dipper was positively thrilled to be meeting the object of his ~~obsession~~ fascination - but after the initial high wore off, the tension was starting to bother even him. 

It was clear that Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford still had some animosity towards each other, soured even more over the 30-year absence. They didn’t appear to be in any rush to start making amends either. It was as if they were pretending the other didn’t exist, that if they ignored the problem strongly enough, it would eventually go away. Luckily, they mostly avoided each other, so the tension was at least bearable. It was a different story when they were both in the same room together, which was usually around dinner time. 

A selfish part of Dipper resented Grunkle Stan, just a little. The Author LITERALLY lived in their basement, yet Dipper couldn’t even talk to him! He still had so many questions to ask him, but Grunkle Stan was firm in Dipper steering clear of him. “My brother’s a dangerous know-it-all, and the stuff he’s messing with is even worse.” He had said, brown eyes dark. “Do yourself a favour and stay away from him.” 

Mabel didn’t seem to be handling the tension very well, though she was doing her best to be her usual peppy self. It just didn’t compute to her that siblings could hate each other so much. Why couldn’t they hug and just say sorry? Why wasn’t that good enough? Dipper had caught her shooting him sad looks when she thought he wasn’t looking, as if she were afraid _they’d_ end up that way too. Dipper did his best to assure her otherwise. 

Tonight had been a particularly bad one. Dipper and Mabel had huddled in their shared room, listening to the faint sounds of shouting coming from somewhere downstairs. It looked like the elder twins had finally stopped tip-toeing around each other. Dipper couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, but the venom in each of their voices was practically palpable.

Thankfully, as if a trade-off for its intensity, the fight had been over as quickly as it started, ending with a slammed door and the sound of tires screeching in the dirt. Most likely Grunkle Stan; Great Uncle Ford didn’t seem much for driving. Dipper had just winced and put the incident out of his mind. There wasn’t much he could do for them, and Mabel hadn’t exactly taken the fight well. He had more important things to worry about right now. 

Now five hours later, the sun was starting to set and there was still no sign of Stan. That couldn’t be good.

“Maybe he just got caught up in a really good game of bingo?” Mabel suggested, ever the optimist. “You know, old people things.” 

Dipper frowned, considering the thought. “There’s no way Grunkle Stan would have lasted this long without getting thrown out for cheating.” 

Try as Dipper may, he couldn’t exactly think of anything that _could_ occupy their Grunkle for this long. The townspeople weren’t exactly his greatest fans, and Stan had always seemed more content to sit in his armchair and watch television than go out anywhere. So what could it be? What could possibly be taking him so long? Had the fight really been that bad? 

… Well, their last big fight had landed Great Uncle Ford on the other side of an interdimensional portal so, yeah, maybe. But Grunkle Stan wouldn’t just _leave_ them, would he?

“Maybe we should go out and find him,” Mabel piped up, interrupting Dipper’s train of thought. “He might just have fallen asleep somewhere! It’s getting close to his bedtime.” 

Dipper knew that she was just trying to lighten the mood, but it did nothing to soothe the sinking feeling he was starting to get. 

_No big deal. You just have to find Stan and bring him back. Piece of cake._

Minds made up, they grabbed their bags and headed down to the door, swiping the keys to the golf cart from the tray in the Gift Shop. While they could easily walk to town, they decided that it would be quicker to take the cart. Gravity Falls covered a pretty expansive area, and Stan could be anywhere. 

They briefly hesitated by the vending machine, exchanging an uneasy glance. Did they tell Great Uncle Ford where they were going? Did they invite him along? … No, he likely wouldn’t come anyways. Besides, maybe he needed some time alone too, and it’d likely not be a good idea to drag him along on a trip to find the person he was fighting in the first place. 

It was decided that they head into town first. Though it was no longer a secret that Grunkle Stan believed in and had experience with the supernatural, it seemed unlikely for him to journey into the woods. At best, he was disinterested in that whole business. Besides, he was driving, and the woods weren’t very car-friendly. 

“We should have made posters before we left.” Mabel thought aloud as they parked the cart, tapping her chin. “How can you hunt for someone if you don’t even have a picture of them?” 

Dipper rolled his eyes fondly, knowing she just wanted to stretch her creativity - and maybe put a dent in her glitter stockpile. “This town is pretty small, Mabel, and Grunkle Stan isn’t exactly a shut-in. I’m pretty sure everyone has at least heard of him.”

Mabel blew a raspberry, clearly disliking his answer, but not having a good enough rebuttal. 

Though Dipper had felt pretty positive they would find Stan somewhere in town, his confidence began to wane with each area searched. Every street and building they checked turned up no trace of him and the townspeople seemed too disinterested to provide anything useful. It was starting to make that sinking feeling intensify, twisting in Dipper’s gut. If Grunkle Stan wasn’t in town, where was he? 

A familiar red car caught Dipper’s attention as they rounded a corner, parked in the parking lot of the grocery store. Hope blossomed in his chest as he grabbed his sister’s arm, pointing over to it. “Mabel, look! It’s Grunkle Stan’s car!” 

The two rushed over to it, but their faces fell when they discovered it empty. The only thing inside was a bag of groceries, sitting innocently in the passenger seat. Dipper frowned, mindlessly putting a hand on the door handle and pulling, though he knew very well Stan would never leave his precious car unloc--

It was unlocked. 

That didn’t make sense. Grunkle Stan’s pastime was stealing and scamming, so he always made sure to keep careful track of his possessions; his car especially. Anytime they went out anywhere, he’d always triple check to make sure the doors were locked and the windows were rolled up. “A beauty like this, anyone’d steal her if they got the chance!” He had explained once. Dipper hadn’t had the heart to tell him he really didn’t think anyone would care enough to steal an old, beat-up car like this.

Mabel reached into the bag of groceries, taking out a carton of milk. “It’s warm.” She murmured, eyes taking on a fearful and distant quality. If the milk was warm, that meant Grunkle Stan hadn’t been here in some time, but where could he have gone without his car? 

Dipper looked up towards the forest, looming a few feet away from the edge of the parking lot. Maybe he had…? No, why would Grunkle Stan head into the woods, especially when he had groceries? Something wasn’t adding up here, and that sinking feeling returned with a vengeance. 

They decided to do one last sweep of the town, just in case. It couldn’t hurt, could it? They made sure to check in with the store as well, just in case he had gone back for something. As expected, the cashier merely shook her head and said he had only been there the one time, and that was hours ago to boot. 

Eventually, the two decided to take a break on a bench, wearing identical frowns as they tried to think of their next move. If he wasn’t in town, then that meant he had most likely gone into the forest. The question still remained: why? Had something lured him in? 

...Maybe Great Uncle Ford had something that could help. Surely he didn’t hate Stan that much that he would refuse to help if he had gone missing, right? They should go and talk to him. 

“Hey Dipper, do you hear that?” Mabel piped up, straightening from her slouched posture, squinting into the distance.

Dipper blinked out of his thoughts and focused. Sure enough, he could faintly hear something coming from somewhere nearby. It almost sounded like… Crying? He straightened too now, probing his surroundings for the source. The few townspeople he saw milling about all seemed fine.

Then he spied a bundle of brown, white and red, tucked in an alleyway behind some garbage bins. As Dipper looked closer, he realized that it wasn’t just any bundle: it was a boy, roughly around their age. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and his face hidden, shoulders silently trembling. Dipper winced in sympathy. He must be lost.

Mabel followed his gaze, silently gasping at the sight. Without bothering to wait for Dipper’s input, she hopped over the back of the bench and carefully approached the boy. Dipper scrambled a little less gracefully, but nonetheless fell into step beside her. 

As they got closer to the boy, Dipper noticed the twigs in his hair and the dirt on his clothes. They looked a little torn too, ripped at the edges. Had he run into one of the supernatural creatures in the woods? Dipper thought the townspeople usually avoided venturing too far from civilization, but that was usually the adults.

He had been trying to think of a good opener so they didn’t needlessly scare him more, but it seemed like the boy was more perceptive than Dipper thought. As soon as they got closer, his head shot up, bloodshot eyes darting around wildly. When he saw them, he hastily scrubbed at his face with the heel of his hand, trying to hide the tears. 

“Are you lost?” Mabel asked, stooping down to be level with the boy. Her expression was soft and open, trying to make herself as non-threatening as possible. Really, she didn’t need to try. Though Mabel was certainly no pushover, she looked about as threatening as a puppy. The puppy knitted into her sweater didn’t help that, either. 

“I’m fine!” The boy said almost immediately, his accent immediately sticking out as something not local. He must be touring with his family and had gotten lost; now his possible forest excursion made a lot more sense. The boy sniffed again, hunching his shoulders as if he wanted to appear bigger, but made no move to get off the pavement. “I’m just… Taking a detour.”

“Detour?” Mabel asked conversationally, her head tilting. “Where are you going? Maybe we can help!”

The boy squinted at Mabel reproachfully, sizing her up. “...The beach.” He eventually said, huffing out a sigh. At least the tears had dried up, though he still looked uneasy in their presence. “I was s’posed to meet my brother there after I got us some candy, but…” He trailed off, squinting. “...I think I fell asleep.” 

Mabel and Dipper exchanged a look. There were no beaches anywhere near Gravity Falls, unless you counted the vaguely sandy shores of the lake. Maybe it was something in the forest? Though it definitely felt like he and Mabel had been over every inch of those woods, they had never come out the other side. But what were the chances of a child - possibly two children - braving the woods and finding something Dipper and Mabel hadn’t yet?

The boy continued on unperturbed by the exchange, seeming to gain enough confidence to show vulnerability in front of the twins. “An’ I don’t really know where I am! One minute I’m walkin’ the boardwalk, then pow! I’m on the ground eatin’ grass! It took me forever to get back here, but I’ve never been in this part of town before!” He took a deep, shuddering breath, fingers tightening in the fabric of his pants. “I’ve been gone for a real long time, he’s probably worried sick now. An’ if Pa finds out…” 

Okay. Something supernatural was at foot here, no question about it. Had it wiped the boy’s memories, maybe? That would explain the sudden shift in location, but not where he had been originally. There were no beaches or boardwalks anywhere in Gravity Falls, and the accent was a sticking point. It sounded like he came from a whole other state. So had he been teleported?

And then, of course, there was still the mystery of their missing Grunkle. As alluring as this particular mystery was, Dipper kept thinking back to the abandoned car and the warm groceries. If something had happened to Stan, especially so soon after those agents had been by… He didn’t want to think about that.

The boy suddenly jumped to his feet, startling Dipper out of his thoughts as the boy’s eyes darted wildly around the alley. “Oh no, my brother’s alone! What if Crampelter gets him? I need to be there!”

Crampelter sounded… Familiar, but Dipper couldn’t place where. Still, speculations could wait. For now, they needed to keep him calm. If he really had been teleported from another state, the explanation that something supernatural had done this to him would likely freak him out more. 

“Whoa there, calm down. We’ll help you find him.” Dipper said without thinking, raising his hands placatingly. Of course, he didn’t know how they were going to do _that_ , but he felt like the boy would just rush off no matter what they said. At least this way, they could keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t get more lost. 

“Yeah!” Mabel chimed in, luckily following his lead without argument. That didn’t surprise him; she was always trying to keep spirits up, no matter whose they were. “We’re missing someone too, so maybe we can all help each other!”

The boy hesitated, clearly not completely trusting them just yet, but there was a flicker of something hopeful in his eyes. Eventually, he nodded, sticking out his hand. “Okay, you guys got a deal. But we need to find my brother first, okay? Trust me, if anyone can find your guys’ missing guy, it’s him. He’s got like…” He paused, counting on his fingers. “A billion smarts in his head!” 

Dipper wanted to argue with that. Stan could be in serious danger, maybe hurt somewhere. Why else would he take so long getting back? Yet Mabel cut him off, taking the boy’s hand and shaking it. “Deal!”

Seeming to ignore Dipper’s hissed ‘ _Mabel_ **_’_ **, Mabel threw her arm around her brother and pulled him into a side-hug. “I’m Mabel, and this is my twin brother Dipper! What’s your name?” 

That seemed to get the boy’s attention, his eyes widening as he looked a little in awe at the two. “You’re twins? Me an’ my brother are twins too!” Whatever misgivings the boy had left seemed to vanish and he fully grinned this time. Dipper could see that one of his teeth was missing. “My name’s Stan!”

“That’s the same name as our Grunkle!” Mabel chimed, eyes widening. She quickly dug into her bag, taking out a photo from their Summerween that she hadn’t found a place for in her scrapbook just yet. She pointed to him in the picture. “You see someone like that before?”

Stan squinted at the picture, thinking carefully. “Hmmm. I dunno what a “grunkle” is, but I’ve never seen him before.” He paused, tilting his head. “He kinda looks like my Pa, but… Really really old.”

Dipper was starting to get a sense of deja vu. The chances that this boy had the same name as Stan _and_ had a twin brother had already seemed a little too convenient in Dipper’s mind, but now Grunkle Stan looked like this boy’s dad? Something was weird here. Was he some kind of distant relative? A cousin, maybe?

Mabel, meanwhile, looked a little dejected as she put the photo back into her bag, but was still smiling through it. “That’s okay. At least you know what he looks like now! Maybe we’ll run into him while we search for your bro, or maybe they’re even together!” 

As the trio journeyed out of the alleyway into the dying sunlight, Stan began to look around at their surroundings. That same uneasy expression flickered across his face before he schooled it into one of determination, hitting his fist into his open palm as he spoke. “Alright. We need to get to the beach first and make sure he isn’t still there. If he’s not, then we’ll go to my Pa’s pawnshop next.” 

Pawnshop? Grunkle Stan’s life story came to mind once again, specifically his childhood. Hadn’t he said his family lived above their own pawn shop? These similarities were starting to get creepy, and Dipper found his mind beginning to wander.

Was it really possible that Grunkle Stan was…?

“Hey, uh… What did you say your last name was?” He asked hesitantly, stopping to turn and face Stan again. It probably came across as a silly question, but Dipper needed to know for sure. Stan blinked at him, looking confused now. 

“Um, Pines? But my last name isn’t gonna help us find Ford!” Stan made to move past the twins, only faltering when he must have realized he didn’t exactly know where to go. He turned back to them, impatient. “C’mon, we’re wasting time!”

Darn. Looks like Dipper’s hunch had been right.

The twins exchanged an alarmed glance, Mabel sputtering in her surprise. “W-Wait, Grunkle Stan? Is that you?” 

Stan blinked once again, caught off guard by the sudden question. “What? I’m not that old! I’m ten and that guy looked like… 100.” He reached up to squish his own cheeks, digging his fingers into the flesh. “I don’t even have wrinkles.”

So not only had their Grunkle been turned back into a 10-year-old, but he hadn’t retained any memories of his older self. Dipper awkwardly tugged at the collar of his shirt at the revelation, going quiet. How were they supposed to explain this to him? He wouldn’t understand. Not to mention, Stan was starting to get that cagey look in his eye as the moment dragged. They didn’t need Stan running off on them. 

But that left them with an uncomfortable problem. Sure, Dipper felt pretty confident in his own skills with the weird and paranormal creatures and items in the forest - the answer to turning Grunkle Stan back to his proper age likely lurked there - but what were they supposed to do with Stan in the meantime? Dipper doubted he’d be up for a forest trek.

...Nevermind that, what were they going to tell _Great Uncle Ford_? After that fight, how would he react to his brother like this? They couldn’t exactly hide Stan from him.

Well, Great Uncle Ford or not, they needed the journal to begin trying to straighten out this mess. That was back in their room, which meant they needed to convince Stan to come back with them. How were they going to manage that?

“Yeah, you’re definitely not our Stan,” Dipper cut in quickly as Stan opened his mouth, likely to protest some more. “That’s okay, we can worry about that later. You said your brother was your twin, right? So that means you look like each other?”

Stan squinted suspiciously at Dipper, but nodded all the same. “Yeah, but he has big glasses.” He held his hands up, cupping his fingers around his eyes. “And he don’t got as many band-aids as me. Oh, and he wears this nerdy jacket.”

Dipper nodded along with the description, conspiratorially rubbing his chin in thought. “Yeah, I think I’ve actually seen someone like that today. He wasn’t at the beach, though.”

Mabel seemed to be clueing in to Dipper’s ploy now and she gasped, putting her hands to her face. “Hey, yeah! I remember that now. He was back at... the Mystery Shack, wasn’t he?” 

The suspicion melted off Stan’s face all too easily. Grunkle Stan would be disappointed in himself. “Really? Did he look okay?”

“Uhhh… Yeah!” Mabel answered, having to think. “He looked kind of worried though, I think he was looking for you.”

Apparently, that was all the convincing Stan needed. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” 

* * *

Though it had been a few days since he had returned to his home dimension, Ford still found himself struggling to adjust to this new modern era. In the 30 years since Ford had gone through the portal, the world had moved on without him, oblivious that he was even missing in the first place. Of course, part of that had been Stan’s fault, but Stan hadn’t brought about 30 years of technological development on his own. 

Nonetheless, if Stan had just _listened_ to him for once in his godforsaken life, Ford wouldn’t have missed those developments in the first place. Now he was practically a prisoner in his own home, forced to hide out in the basement while his brother masqueraded as him. It was an affront to Ford’s pride and life’s work, having his identity stolen and turned around like that. Really, what had Stan been thinking?

The rational part of Ford reminded him that his precious “life’s work” had nearly brought about the end of the universe. If he hadn’t trusted Bill in the first place, been as smart as he liked to believe he was, then there wouldn’t have been a portal to go through. Fiddleford would certainly be the better for it - God, was he still alive? Ford needed to check on him.

Yet the stubborn part of Ford wanted to hold tight to his anger. It was easier to just blame Stan for everything. Stan was the one who broke his project, crushed his dreams, and _pushed_ him through an interdimensional portal. Perhaps it was irrational, but Ford felt comfortable with this anger. These weren’t petty incidents: they were life-altering. He was completely justified in feeling the way he felt right now.

That had partially been what their fight earlier in the day had been about. After he had sealed the Rift and dismantled the portal, Ford had decided to do a basic search on his name to see if he could track down his brother’s movements. It was then that he discovered the rather extensive criminal record now attached to his name. Ford hadn’t realized there were even official names for half of these crimes. 

So angry, he had promptly gone upstairs to find his brother and give him a piece of his mind. Hadn’t he realized what a mess this would be to sort out when he was able to exist under his own name again? Had he thought through _anything_ in the time Ford had been gone? 

_“Why do you always have to ruin my life?!”_

Ford remembered the momentary look of hurt in his brother’s eyes as he hurled that accusation at him and, briefly, felt bad. Stan had shored up that vulnerability pretty fast, spouting the same excuse he had stuck by ever since Ford got back: “I was doing it for you!” His sympathy dried up almost immediately.

For Ford. As if making Ford a criminal would do him ANY good. Stan hadn’t bothered to stick around to hear Ford’s rebuttal, saying something about how he didn’t need to take this kind of shit before storming off outside. A snide voice in Ford’s head pointed out that Stan was just running away from the consequences of his own actions, just as he had done for the entirety of his life. Nothing was ever _his_ fault. 

That had been hours ago now. When he checked his watch, he could see that it was well past the time Stan normally cooked dinner for them. Usually, he would call Ford up to join them (most likely out of obligation, or maybe for the kids’ sakes), but he hadn’t heard anything yet. 

Ford couldn’t say he was surprised. After that fight, it wasn’t a stretch to assume Stan decided he didn’t want to see his brother so soon. Ford couldn’t say he wanted to see Stan so soon either, so he didn’t really begrudge being left out. If he was quiet enough, he might be able to sneak some food for himself without alerting the family. 

As he did his best to close the vending machine as silently as he could and entered the house portion of the Mystery Shack (Moses, what a terrible name), he noticed just how quiet everything was. Ford even stood still and listened, trying to pick up any sounds that could be coming from upstairs. There was nothing. 

Odd, but hardly Ford’s concern. All three of the house residents were plenty capable of handling themselves from what he could tell, and it wasn’t exactly his job to babysit them. Well, babysit Stan, at least. 

So he shrugged the oddity off and continued to the kitchen, rooting around for something to eat. Since he had the house to himself, perhaps he would actually cook himself something for once. Sure, when he was last in this dimension, he typically subsisted off ready-made food, but having something warm and fresh was a luxury he hadn’t been able to afford in the multiverse. 

Soon enough, he had two eggs simmering happily in the pan. The mundaneness was a nice break from the 30 years of hell he had been through, and Ford relished in it. For once, everything was fine. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of a door opening. Ford assumed it to be the front door at first, but soon realized it had come from the wrong end of the house. The only other door that lead outside was the Gift Shop door, but that was supposed to be closed for the public. Perhaps one of the family had decided to use that door out of convenience? 

It could also be someone - or something - breaking in. The vending machine was in the Gift Shop. Bill was still at large. The Rift was in his lab. That wasn’t good. 

Shutting the stove off, Ford quickly but quietly sprinted towards the Gift Shop. The chances of Bill retaliating were slim, but slim wasn’t nothing. Ford couldn’t afford to be lenient, not when the universe was at stake.

Once he got to the door that separated the shop from the house, he could pick up on three voices. Two he recognized as Dipper and Mabel, but the third was unfamiliar. While the presence of the youngest twins was a mild relief, the unfamiliar voice did nothing to tamp down his panic. What if Bill had possessed someone and had tricked the children? It wouldn’t be beneath him. 

Ford considered opening the door a crack to see if he could catch sight of the stranger’s eyes, but thought better of it. If anyone saw him, it’d be over. Bill was all too familiar with him and had two easy bargaining chips should Ford try and block their path. Instead, he pressed his ear to the door and tried to listen to their conversation. 

“... And you’re totally sure he was still here when you guys left?” The unfamiliar voice said. Now what he was thinking of it, Ford couldn’t shake the feeling that he had heard that voice somewhere before. At least it wasn’t Bill’s voice, though that didn’t eliminate the possibility of the demon’s involvement. 

“Sure was!” That was Mabel, that much was obvious. “He was showing off this picture he had to everyone.” 

“A picture?” The unfamiliar voice echoed. “Huh. I wonder why.” 

“While we’re here, we need to pick something up.” And there was Dipper. “Can you wait here? We won’t be long.” 

What? They were leaving a stranger _alone_ near the vending machine? Even if they weren’t a stranger to them, that was still dangerous! Ford was going to need to sit them down and have a word with them about how important it was to keep the vending machine away from prying eyes.

No time for that now as he heard footsteps start approaching the door Ford had pressed himself against. Thinking quickly, he ducked into hiding right as the twins came into the house. He held his breath as they passed him by, heading upstairs to their shared room. It didn’t seem like they had seen him. 

With them gone, he could now check on this stranger without any collateral. 

Not bothering to be subtle, Ford pushed the Gift Shop’s door open. Playing cat and mouse with Bill was a pointless endeavor; it was best to face him head-on. However, what he saw inside made his blood run cold. 

There in the Gift Shop stood a child that looked strikingly similar to Stan when he was a child, right down to the face, hair, and clothes. He was holding a Stan bobblehead in his hands, turning it over and over, watching the head jiggle with a fascinated stare. His eyes, Ford noted dimly, were brown. 

The child looked up at Ford’s entrance, tilting his head curiously at him. He only looked at him a moment before he cupped his free hand around his mouth, shouting: “Dipper! Mabel! I found your missing Grunkle!” 

With a face to put to the voice, the realization of why he sounded so familiar hit him like a truck. This wasn’t just someone who _looked_ like Stanley, this _was_ Stanley. 

The shock must have shown on his face as Stan was looking at him again, this time with a little concern and a bit of apprehension. “You okay there mister? You look kinda sick.” 

Ford took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts to the back of his head. Obviously something supernatural had gotten to him, though he couldn’t remember encountering anything that could do this. That wasn’t a good sign, he was going to need to refresh himself with his journals to double-check.

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine.” He finally said, pushing a hand through his hair. Stan’s gaze was immediately drawn to the motion, and Ford realized his mistake as soon as he saw those eyes widen.

“Whoa, you got six fingers! My brother’s got six fingers too!” He exclaimed, reaching out to grab Ford’s free hand. Ford had to resist the instinct to yank his hand back and shove it out of sight. Stan continued, “People are always sayin’ he’s a freak, but wait till I show him this! He can’t be a freak if there’s other people like him! He’s gonna be so happy!”

Ford felt himself wince. Back then, there were no shortage of people who were uncomfortable with his extra fingers. Abnormalities weren’t (aren’t?) something the public took kindly too and chose to distance themselves from Ford accordingly. Others had mocked him for it, helpfully reminding him that there was nowhere freaks like him would belong. 

Stan had been the only one to tell him that his extra fingers made him special, not a freak, and that they were just jealous. If Stan was there, which was common back then, he had always stood up for Ford and told the bullies straight to their face how wrong they were. Seeing Stan so awed now and immediately thinking of how Ford would feel made his heart clench uncomfortably. 

Stan’s loyalty had always been unwavering, his conscience reminded him. No matter how stupid and reckless it was, Stan was always there. It was why Ford was standing here in the first place. 

Luckily, Ford didn’t need to think of a comeback as he heard the door open behind him. He turned to see the twins had returned, Dipper holding one of his journals. They were staring at him with shock.

“See? I found your Grunkle!” Stan piped up, letting go of Ford’s hand to gesture dramatically at him. “Now we can go back to finding Ford! Oh, wait-” He turned back to face Ford, looking serious now. “Have _you_ seen him? He looks like me, but with glasses.” 

Ah. He was looking for Ford. That caused another uncomfortable heart clench. 

“Um… Gr-- I mean, Stan…” Mabel started, helplessly trailing off. It was then that Ford knew what he needed to do. 

He crouched down so he was eye level with Stan, gently placing his hands on his shoulders. “I’m right here, Stanley.” 

Stan stiffened under his hands, looking up at Ford with a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Even in their youth, Stan hadn’t been the type to easily buy into what people told him. While Ford admittedly found himself falling for the lies his classmates would tell, desperate for admiration and acceptance, Stan was always the first to call a bluff. He had written it off as mere gut instinct - Ford was the one with the smarts to see through the lies later in life, after all. 

Oh, how wrong Stan had been. 

“Last I checked, my brother wasn’t a dinosaur.” Stan shot back, though his tone lacked conviction. His brows were furrowed as he stubbornly looked down at his shoe, refusing to meet Ford’s gaze. It was an expression of Stan’s that Ford could still read even after all these years: fear.

“If I wasn’t your brother, I wouldn’t know about that time you and I thought we killed the Sibling Brothers and stole their clothes,” Ford said gently, watching Stan’s eyes snap up to meet his own. “I wouldn’t know that the real reason you lost that tooth there is because you fell out of a tree, not because you were fighting bullies. I wouldn’t know that you’re afraid of heights, or that you once called Mr. Kord ‘Pa’ in 3rd grade, or that you lost a fight to a crab in 4th.” 

He punctuated his explanation with a squeeze of his brother’s shoulders, hoping to be reassuring. “I promise you, Stanley. It’s really me.” 

Stan was now staring at him with open shock, eyes blown wide. When he finally spoke, his voice was small and hesitant. “S-Sixer? But… What?” 

For the first time in 40 years, Ford gave his brother a bittersweet smile. 

“I’ll explain in the house.” 


	2. Testing the Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pines family adapts to this new change with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was definitely not expecting the first chapter to get such a positive reception. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much!

All things considered, Stan took the news remarkably well. 

“So you’re sayin’ something came around and turned me into a kid?” He had echoed, scrunching up his face in thought for a moment. “Eh. I guess it could be worse.” 

To be fair, Ford had kept it simple and brief. There was no sense in telling Stan the reason he had gone out in the first place, just as there’d be no sense in explaining every shred of bitterness that had built up over the years. Stan was old, went out, and then wasn’t anymore. Anyone could understand. 

“And we’re your great-niece and nephew!” Mabel piped up, grabbing her brother in a side hug. “Your _favourite_ great-niece and nephew, by the way.”

Ford almost corrected her that they were their _only_ great-niece and nephew (unless there were more descendants of Shermy? Ford would need to investigate that once he was settled), but bit his tongue. For once, it wasn’t the time to play perfectionist. 

“Great-niece and nephew, eh?” Stan tapped his chin, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So that makes me the boss of you!” 

“Well, you’re younger than us right now.” Dipper corrected, straightening out his clothes from his sister’s hug/chokehold. From what Ford could tell, Mabel didn’t do her hugs by half measures.

Stan ignored this point, nodding to himself. “I’m the boss of people… Cool!” 

“Let’s not forget who the older twin is here, technically _and_ literally.” Ford cut in next, shooting his brother a stern look. “So I’m the one in charge right now.” 

That made Stan deflate a little, crossing his arms and huffing defiantly. “Only by fifteen minutes!” He shot back, but kept it at that. For as stubborn as Stan was, that was certainly remarkable. Maybe now that they were farther apart in age, he would finally listen to Ford. 

Ha.

The annoyance passed quickly, Stan’s face brightening with realization. “So if Sixer’s an old man, then I’m an old man too, right?” He immediately rounded on Ford, leaning forward excitedly. “Did we fix the Stan O’War and go treasure hunting?”

Ford’s mouth shut with an audible clack. He had already told himself he wasn’t going to bring up the years of bitterness, but how was he supposed to answer that question without lying? _‘For unspecific reasons, we actually haven’t spoken in 40 years.’_ That would never work.

He may be upset with Stanley right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to crush this child’s innocent naivety. 

“You run a business!” Mabel volunteered, saving Ford from having to answer. He wondered if she did that intentionally or not. “And you do have some employees, so you’re basically still a boss anyways!”

Stan’s eyes widened with wonder, childhood dream momentarily forgotten. “No foolin’? Wow! I bet Pa was real proud of me!” 

And here Ford thought it was impossible for this to get worse. 

The excitement in Stan’s expression crumbled a little at his audience’s stony faces, uncertainty creeping back into his features. He looked right at Ford, searching. “...He _was_ proud of me, right? Stanford?”

The scene was so heart-wrenchingly familiar that, for a second, Ford wasn’t an old man with the threat of the world on his shoulders. He was a child, just like Stan, standing in a cave, hiding in a theme park attraction. His twin was so open and vulnerable, looking at Ford like he had all the answers in the world, pleading to tell him he was wrong. 

_‘Do you really think I’m a bad kid?’_

_‘It just sometimes feels like Pa hates me.’_

_‘Do you know what it’s like being the stupid twin?’_

_‘I wish just once Pa would look at me the way he looks at you. Like he actually likes me.’_

Truth be told, Ford had spent so long trying to bury Stan in his memories that he had forgotten all about his twin’s insecurities. His stomach twisted at the reminder. How long ago had those memories happened for Stan? How long had he felt like that in general? _Probably longer than you’d care to admit._

Ford hadn’t wanted to lie to Stan if he could help it. Lies had never been Ford’s strong suit, not like they were Stan’s. Lies were liabilities, a misstep waiting to happen. They were messy and risky and something Ford would rather avoid altogether. Yet looking into Stan’s eyes, he knew he had no choice.

“Not just proud, Stanley. He was impressed.” He said, and his voice didn’t even shake. “You really beat him at his own game.” 

If at all possible, Stan looked even more starstruck than before. He looked back in the direction of the Gift Shop, blinking hard. Ford didn’t need to see his brother’s eyes to know they were damp.

 _It’s just a white lie._ He told himself when Stan turned back to him with a thousand-watt smile. _There’s no harm in a white lie or two. When Stan is back to his proper age, he’ll understand._

After that, the questions came at Ford rapid-fire. Really, he should have expected as much.

“So did we really go treasure hunting after all?”

“Yes.”

“Did we find lots of treasure and get all the girls?”

“Yes.”

“Did I open the business before or after we went sailing?”

“After.”

“Where’s all the treasure now?”

“Hidden away to protect it from pirates.” 

“What about the Stan O’War?”

“In a museum. We are world-famous adventurers, after all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the younger twins exchanging a grimace and pretended he didn’t notice. The children just didn’t understand. It was easier to do things this way. If Stan knew the harsh reality their lives had taken, he may not be so quick to trust Ford and allow him to reverse whatever had done this to him in the first place. Stan didn’t have the emotional capability to handle the truth. This was for his own good.

He also pretended that the giddy smile Stan wore didn’t warm something within him, buried after so many years. 

_Just because Stan is this way right now doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him. I’m still justified to feel angry with him. When he’s his proper age, we’re going to have a very long discussion._

“I told you it’d happen!” Stan proudly declared, reaching across the table to affectionately punch Ford in the arm. Ford pointedly ignored the memory of the last time Stan had punched him 30 years ago. 

Before Stan could launch into more questions, Dipper awkwardly cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, Great Uncle Ford? Do you think we could have some dinner?”

Right, Ford should have realized. Stan had left around midday and, apparently, hadn’t been back until just now. The children must be starving. That realization was followed by another, more daunting one: Ford would have to cook for them. 

Ford hadn’t cooked for anyone since he lived with Fiddleford, and even then that had been sparingly. Fiddleford had dubbed him a “fire hazard” when he accidentally added vinegar instead of pasta sauce; a clear overreaction. It wasn’t like he had done it _intentionally_ , he had just been sleep-deprived! It could happen to anyone! 

“Of course, Dipper.” He responded, spite burgeoning him with confidence. He could cook _just fine_ , thank you very much, Fiddleford. “You’re actually in luck, I was in the middle of cooking for myself when you all arrived. It shouldn’t be too much to whip up a bit extra.”

If he could survive the multiverse for 30 years, he could handle cooking for 3 children. It was just cooking more, after all. It wasn’t rocket science. What could go wrong? 

* * *

Evidently, a lot could go wrong. 

As it turned out, leaving food unattended in this house was a bad idea. Apparently, a pig - Mabel’s pet Waddles, Ford learned later - had taken the opportunity to indulge in the unguarded delicacies and left nothing to salvage when Ford returned. Never one to accept a setback, he had merely taken it as a sign that he needed to make something a bit more extravagant than plain old eggs for a family dinner.

After liberally covering the kitchen in food matter, utensils, and soot from a spontaneous fire, the family had made the decision to give the kitchen a much-needed break. This was what had lead to them piling into Greasy’s Diner, tucked into a booth near the end of the restaurant. Mabel tried to assure him that Stan had done much, much worse in the beginning. Ford got the impression she was just saying that to make him feel better.

Truth be told, the idea of being in town set Ford’s teeth on edge. While the Rift may be contained, it was in no way safe. Until Bill was defeated once and for all, he would never stop trying to get it. This made every citizen not only a target, but a suspect as well. They couldn’t afford to trust anyone. 

Ford had almost turned the idea down when it was suggested, but a look at the kitchen reminded him that he wouldn’t be able to provide the proper meal growing children needed. Instead, he settled on lecturing them at length about keeping on guard, making sure to keep it specific enough to dissuade questions and vague enough not to keep Bill’s name out of their mouths. Worryingly, the children barely seemed fazed. 

Now, sitting in the diner as the group looked over the menu, Ford was struck with another troubling realization. While people were going to address him by his actual name, they were still going to think he was his brother. With Stanley _right there_ , he couldn’t very well correct them, either. Not only that, but he’d need to think of a good excuse for why “Mr. Pines” suddenly had another child. 

Frustration surged through him at the thought and he found himself remembering the resentment he felt earlier today. _Damnit Stanley, why do you need to make everything so hard?_

Before Ford could entertain that thought further, he caught sight of an older woman in waitressing attire approaching their table. She had a lazy eye, but the eye that remained open was a perfectly boring hazel. Not Bill. Ford could relax a little.

“Stan!” She greeted, smiling brightly at him. “Did you get dressed up just for me?” 

Ford looked down at his clothes and inwardly cursed. If he had had the forethought, he would have taken the time to dress like Stan to compl-- wait a second. 

As he finished processing the woman’s words, he felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Of all the people in Stan’s life that Ford could have met first, why did it have to be someone he had been or was currently romantically involved with? He could barely woo his own partners when he bothered with romance, let alone his estranged twin’s. 

Luckily (or unluckily, in hindsight) for Ford, the woman soon shifted her attention to Stan and brightened even more. “And who’s this cutiepie?” Damnit, Ford hadn’t thought up a decent cover story for the town yet.

“My name’s Stanley!” Stan chirped, puffing out his chest at the compliment. He had always been more receptive to people’s praise, soaking it up like a sponge while Ford shied away from it. Ford supposed it was natural, considering how they were raised. 

“He’s our younger brother who just got back from a trip to New Jersey!” Dipper cut in quickly, drawing the attention of four sets of confused eyes. He seemed to quail a little under the scrutiny, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhh… Our parents decided to just send him here too.” 

There was a moment of silence, but only for a moment before Stan answered confidently, “Sure am! I can’t let my big siblings hog all the fun of camping up here.” Ford had forgotten how honed his brother’s lying was, even at such a young age. He hadn’t even stuttered. 

The waitress laughed and, thankfully, took their orders without pressing the issue further. Once she was gone, he smiled gratefully at Dipper. “Nice thinking, Dipper. Great work.” 

The boy flushed at the praise, eyes darting down to the menu as the hand rubbing his neck increased in pace. “Oh, uh! It was nothing… I just figured we probably should keep this under wraps until we get Stan back to normal.” 

Stan nodded his agreement, much more cooperative than Ford thought he’d be. “Makes sense to me, but won’t people wonder where I am? I mean, if I’m a world-famous adventurer and successful business guy an’ all…”

Right then. It would probably be best to get their stories straight before anyone else happened by. Though Ford wasn’t much good at this lying business, he knew the logic behind it. If they were all in agreement, that lessened the chances of conflicting lies, which lessened the chance of confrontation. Confrontation was certainly not something Ford’s skittish heart needed right now. 

“Simple: you’re an adventurer. Though the lull of running a business was a nice reprieve, the calls of the sea were not so easy to dismiss. You set out in search of wonder and new exhibits for your business, ready to fight any who opposed you.” 

Ford expected Stan’s eyes to light up at the very idea. It played into his dream quite handily, harkening back to days spent weaving tales on the beach. He even pitched his voice dramatically for the effect. Instead, Ford was met with a stormy expression, Stan’s lips pressed into a thin line. Ford didn’t understand. 

“An adventure without you sounds like a pretty dumb adventure,” Stan grumbled, picking at the edge of his menu. He refused to meet Ford’s eyes. “Are people really gonna buy that?”

Of course. Sailing away hadn’t just been Stan’s dream, it had been Ford’s once as well. _Wherever we go, we go together._ He swallowed uncomfortably. 

“Well, of course they will.” Ford reasoned, wracking his brain for a believable lie. “One of us needed to stay back and keep running the Mystery Shack. No good business can just close down, you know.” 

Stan’s scowl deepened, unconvinced and stubborn as ever. Ford found himself sighing in response. “It’s just a lie, Stanley. It doesn’t need to be realistic.”

“If anyone can make something unbelievable believable, it’s you Grunkle Stan.” Mabel pointed out, smiling. “And this time, it’s for a good cause!” 

Stan’s expression wavered at that. “I _guess_ so. And it’s not like it’s gonna last forever…” He nodded to himself, tension easing. “It can’t be any harder than that time I convinced Mr. Carter that I ate roasted seagull for lunch every day. The look on his face was priceless!” 

The air at the table lightened some as Stan began to re-tell tales from their youth. Another forgotten aspect of his brother’s personality came to surface as he watched him, gesturing and speaking with the flair of a showman. Truly, Stan had a knack for public speaking. Ford wondered what else he had forcibly repressed about his brother. 

_He might have been able to make something of himself if he wasn’t so insistent on suffocating me._ A dark voice murmured in his mind. Ford dismissed it, forcing himself to focus on the present. There would be time to stew in bitter thoughts later. 

Though the children were listening with rapt attention, they were not content to play captive audiences for long. As their food arrived and the group dug in, they repaid Stan with stories of their own from their summer in Gravity Falls. It didn’t escape Ford that plenty of their tales centred around anomalies that he had recorded in his journal, nor did he miss the side glances Dipper cast his way anytime one was brought up. 

He thought back to the first time he had opened his third journal upon his return, flipping through the carefully scrawled blue words. The twins - Dipper mostly, judging on the writing - had certainly been busy this summer. The solutions they posited seemed so obvious when spelled out, how hadn’t he thought of it? 

Stan had been firm in keeping Ford away from the children for their own safety. At first, he could see the logic behind that assertion. While Gravity Falls was a wonderfully weird place, it was also dangerous to those who were unprepared. Yet the more Ford read the journal, the more capable the children became in his eyes. Hearing the stories firsthand merely solidified the notion in his mind. Stan was just being overprotective. 

If they were going to turn Stan back to his proper age, then he was going to need to work with the children, deal be damned. If he happened to get closer to and bond with them along the way, then that was just a logical and inescapable outcome. Stan couldn’t fault him for that, not when it was for his own good. 

Besides, these children were his family too. Stan had no right to hold them hostage from him. 

* * *

The past few hours had been such a whirlwind, Stanley was having trouble processing. To start the day on the beach and finish it in a small town smack dab in the middle of a forest? It didn’t feel real. More than once, Stan would dig his fingernails into his arm when he felt like no one was paying attention, just to see if he was dreaming after all. No luck. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was interested in this new life he seemed to have made for himself! His great-niece and nephew seemed really nice (even if it was weird to think that kids around his age were actually younger than him?), and the fact he was a businessman now was an unexpected delight. But it just wasn’t the same without Ford here by his side to experience it with him. 

Ford may be around, but he wasn’t really _around_. He was older and wiser and sure, he was still the same old Pointdexter, but it just wasn’t the same. Experiencing this sudden environment shift on his own, after doing everything with his twin before, was a change Stan wasn’t ready to face. Beneath the bravado and excitement, Stan couldn’t stop himself from feeling terribly anxious. 

Riding in the backseat of an admittedly neat looking car (“It’s your car, Grunkle Stan!”), wedged between unfamiliar family, Stan could feel those anxieties creeping back up to the forefront once more. He had been to the woods before on a school trip, but never at night. The trees looming through the windows looked dark and foreboding without the sun, like they could swallow you up and no one would hear from you again. He had to resist the urge to shrink back into Dipper’s side. 

Ugh, what kind of wimp was he? Pa would likely scold him if he knew. _‘Belt up, boy. A Pines man doesn’t hide from danger.’_ Of course, that thought just made him homesick. What he wouldn’t give to tuck himself into Ma’s arms right about now. 

But Pa was right. He was a Pines man, and a Pines man didn’t hide. He pointedly squashed down his fears and, instead, asked about the pig Mabel had called Waddles. The girl lit up with a dazzling smile and spoke at length about how wonderful he was, showing him picture after picture that she had saved in the pockets of her sweater. Dipper assured him this was only a fraction of the pictures she had, the rest having found a home in her scrapbook. Stan believed him.

Maybe Stan didn’t have Ford here to face this unknown situation with, but Dipper and Mabel made good company. Though he wouldn’t trade Ford for the world, it was nice to have other people to call friends for once. He closed his eyes as he listened to the two talk, allowing himself to be soothed by their voices. 

If they and Ford weren’t afraid right now, then he had no reason to be either.

He hadn’t realized he had dozed off until he heard the sounds of car doors opening. He opened his eyes, blinking blearily and scrambling to get out of the car. Looks like they were back at the Mystery Shack ( _his_ business, wasn’t that so neat?). Man, how long had he been out? Hopefully, the others hadn’t noticed.

As they made their way into the house - coming in through a different door this time, though Stan guessed that wasn’t really important - Ford clapped his hands together. “Alright then, Stanley. Let’s get you situated and off to bed.”

Darn. He must have noticed.

“What? But it’s only -” Stan paused, looking over at the clock on the wall “- 8! It’s not even close to bedtime, and I’m not even tired!”

Ford shot him a stern look, looking much more like Pa than Ford. Stan felt himself instinctually straighten. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, I believe that you aren’t tired. That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been through quite an ordeal, mentally and physically. Your body and mind need time to recharge. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”

As usual, Ford was making a good point. That didn’t stop Stan from crossing his arms and scuffing the floor with his shoe, most assuredly not pouting. Stan didn’t pout. Pouting was for babies. 

Apparently satisfied with Stan’s silence, Ford turned his attention to the other two. “While I’m attending to that, do you two mind fetching me my remaining two journals? They should be down in the lab.” 

Dipper’s eyes widened at Ford’s request, looking like a kid on Christmas. Were Ford’s nerd scribbles really that interesting? “O-Okay!” He stammered out before turning on his heel, racing out of the room. Mabel was hot on his heels, calling after him to slow down and wait for her. 

Stan watched the two until they disappeared down the hall. “Journals, huh? Isn’t that kinda like a diary?” He asked, turning to where Ford was standing. Keyword: was. Turns out, his brother was already halfway up the stairs. Looks like he had decided to take a leaf out of Dipper’s book. Stan frowned at that and hastened to follow.

Ford stayed quiet as they journeyed through the house, scarcely seeming to notice that Stan was following at all. He looked lost in thought, which Stan supposed wasn’t all that out of place. Ford was usually thinking about something, and sometimes he’d get so lost in that big brain of his that he stopped noticing his surroundings. Usually, that only happened when he was faced with a really hard problem. 

Maybe Stan’s situation was hard too? It seemed hard to Stan, but Stan was never all that bright to begin with. For Ford’s sake, he stayed quiet too.

Eventually, the pair stopped outside a door. Luckily, Ford seemed to snap out of whatever daze he had been in. “Ah, yes, here we are,” He said, opening the door and gesturing inside. “This is your room. You can sleep here while I work on getting you back to normal.”

The first thing that Stan noticed was that it was dark. Maybe it was just because the lights were off, but the dark felt different somehow; suffocating, almost. The curtains on the window were drawn tight, preventing any moonlight from brightening the room. The light that did spill in from the hallway illuminated the dusty air and the general state of disarray the room was in. 

If Stan had to describe it, it seemed sad. Was this really the room he slept in as an adult?

Ford continued talking, sounding way too casual after revealing such a dim place. “Now I doubt you have any children clothes here, but I don’t anticipate Dipper having an issue with you borrowing some of his. If everything goes well, I should have you back to normal in a few days, so it won’t be an issue for long. The children sleep in the attic and I’ll be sleeping in the room down the hall, so we won’t be far if you need anyth--”

“Wait.” Stan cut in, realization dawning. _No wonder there’s only one bed._ “You’re not sleeping with me?” 

He turned to look straight up at Ford, watching as his brother’s eyes immediately looked off to the side. He had that sad look on his face again, a look that Stan was starting to realize showed up quite frequently now. It made him wonder if _he_ was the one causing that look. 

“No, Stanley.” He eventually said, reaching up to push his glasses further up his face. It was a nervous habit, one Stan could easily recognize. “We haven’t slept in the same room for a very long time. Adults need their own space.”

Stan wanted to argue that. Ma and Pa shared a room - heck, they shared a bed! - why couldn’t he and Ford? Yet taking another look at his brother, Stan once again remembered that this Ford wasn’t really _his_. This Ford was basically a stranger to him, and Stan hated it. Sharing a room would probably just make the strangeness even more apparent.

It was Stan’s turn to avoid eye contact, staring into the room instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ford’s features softening a little. Soon enough, the familiar six-fingered weight was settling on Stan’s shoulder. The fingers were bigger and rougher now, but the gesture was still the same. It felt like Ford was drawing out the tension through touch alone. 

“I know it’s new and frightening, but I promise you’ll get used to it.” He said, stooping down so he was level with Stan. His lips twitched up into a slight smile. “As I said, I’m not far away, okay? If something happens, you can still come to me. Just because we don’t share a room anymore doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you.” 

Of course, what was he thinking? Ford might be old and strange right now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still his brother. He really shouldn’t be expecting so little of him. Just because he was sleeping here alone didn’t mean Ford didn’t have his back. 

_It’s just temporary. The room is weird but you can do this. You’ve taken on worse._

Stan took a breath and let the weight on his shoulder strengthen him. It was hard to feel afraid when he had someone at his side and a slow, shy smile spread across his face. He turned to face his twin, holding up his hand in mutual solidarity. No matter how many years separated them now, surely this was universal. This couldn’t be tainted by the strangeness. 

“High-six?” 

Instead of immediately raising his hand and completing the gesture, Ford just stared blankly at it. One moment passed, then another, and Stan’s smile began to flicker. Ford had that look in his eye again, that sad, far-away look. Stan decided he hated it more than he hated the room. 

Subconscious now, Stan lowered his hand. Maybe he had been wrong after all. Stan couldn’t imagine it; in what reality could he achieve his dream while everything he shared with his brother was suddenly different? Was it just inevitable? 

“I-I’m sorry, Stanley.” Ford finally stammered, removing his hand from his shoulder to card anxiously through his hair. “It’s been… A trying day for me, too. I hope you can understand.”

Stanley didn’t, not entirely. 

Maybe… Things were just different because Ford had lost someone, too. Maybe he felt this same strangeness in reverse, looking for the adult version of his missing half. Stan didn’t really know how he’d feel in Ford’s shoes, so it seemed probable to him.

Either way, he put on a smile and reached over to put a hand on Ford’s shoulder too. His hand was much smaller and probably lacked the same satisfying, grounding weight to it, but he hoped it helped anyways. “Course I do, Pointdexter,” He lied. “But it’s okay. We can be here for each other, just like always.” 

Ford inhaled softly at the touch, but didn’t immediately move away. Stan took that as a good sign and remained there, allowing the silence to stretch for as long as Ford needed it. 

The moment passed soon after and Ford straightened once more, letting Stan’s hand fall away. Stan understood; Pines men didn’t just sit there and whimper. If you had time to cry, you had time to fight. That was what Pa had always said. 

Feeling lighter, Stan dutifully crawled into the too-big bed without any further complaint. For the time being, he didn’t even notice the heaviness. Now that he was really laying down, the exhaustion that he had been fighting since the diner was returning with a vengeance. He had just enough energy to turn onto his side, looking at where Ford stood in the doorway. 

“G’night, Ford.” He murmured, eyes already closing. 

Whatever Ford’s response was, if there was any at all, fell on deaf ears. Stan was fast asleep before he knew what hit him. 

* * *

Far away from the odd little family, in a dimension nothing like theirs, a being contemplates the scene he has just witnessed. The little display was disgustingly saccharine, almost making him sick to his proverbial stomach.

Still, the advantage that had just been handed to him was well worth enduring that little sob fest. He leans away from his handy eavesdropping orb, hands clasped at his back. 

“And here I thought my conquest was going to be difficult.” He thought aloud, unable to stop himself from cackling. After enduring those embarrassing defeats at the hands of those meddlesome twins, this break was exactly what he was looking for. 

It was time to exploit that six-fingered freak’s kryptonite: Stanley Pines. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert cliche, ominous ending here.
> 
> To give you an idea of the trajectory of this story, I'll hit some of the common story beats in this AU, but I'll be throwing in my own twists. Gotta keep it interesting!
> 
> I'm envisioning around 5 chapters for this fic, maybe more depending on any new ideas I think of. The next chapter will move quicker than these first two chapters and probably be fairly light in nature. I've got a few ideas for that section, but if there's anything you want to suggest, feel free to comment or hit me up at [my tumblr.](https://nyroom.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Yes, I put in another obscure cameo/reference. No, I'm not sorry. Points if you know who it is!

**Author's Note:**

> My dumbass will endeavor to finish this but I make no promises.
> 
> If you notice anything wrong, feel free to let me know!
> 
> Bonus points to whoever figures out what Mr. Kord refers to.


End file.
